


Burdens

by SpaceHobo



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: 1st person pov, Angst, F/M, Hurt Luke, Luke Skywalker/Rey - Freeform, POV Rey (Star Wars), Rey/Luke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-06-05 14:30:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 7,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15172709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceHobo/pseuds/SpaceHobo
Summary: I don't want this. She brought this burden to me, and Kriff.... I don't want this.





	1. Luke

**Author's Note:**

> Quick drabblet to try to get the creative flow going again.

She looks at me _so_ plaintively, _so_ hopeful, and _so_ certain. Her steady hand holds out my father’s saber to me. The blade I first held when I was not so much younger than she. The blade attached to the hand my own father severed from my body. The feeling of seeing that cursed object was like free-falling into an atmosphere in a stalled out x-wing. 

I want to run. I want to flee but where else is there to hide? She found me even though I’d hidden myself away in the most remote location imaginable. I take the hilt, twisting it and turning it in my mismatched hands, my mechanical hand making small tapping noises as metal touches metal. I really should acquire a new synth-skin for it. It’s not been a priority. Eating, sleeping, and staying hidden have been my priority for over a decade now. 

Separating myself from the Force has been my priority. No connection to the Force, no way for anyone to find me. _I don’t want this._ I toss the blade over my shoulder, striding away as quickly as I can. Maybe if I move fast enough she’ll leave.

Even as I run from this destiny the Force is so determined to set me upon, I feel it. I feel how she’s been drawn to me since the day of her birth. I don’t like to think about how old I might have been at that particular moment in time. When the saber blade changed hands, I felt how it had changed. How it recognised a new master. It called to her. It called to her and then it guided her _here_. 

I _don’t_ want this. But it’s happening. The Force has it’s will and we are but pawns in its game.


	2. Rey

I didn’t want this. The blade in my hand was foisted upon me just as my life on Jakku was foisted upon me. No warning, no debate, no guidance. I didn’t want this but here I am. I have journeyed _so_ far from everything that I have known to this place which is the complete opposite of the planet upon which I grew up. I hold out the saber hilt to the man I’ve heard stories about my entire life. Heroic stories. Daring stories. Romantic stories. I’ve seen holos of him as a young man when I was a child and others had shared their scavenged holo-vids with me. He was handsome. He was the embodiment of youthful hope.

The man in front of me is changed. Changed and yet the same. There is beauty in his lined face. Dignity in his stance. His eyes _beg_ me not to do this to him. In those blue eyes, darkened by age, I see a pleading not to drag him back into the fight he’d fled from. Nevertheless, he takes the hilt from me and inspects it before tossing it flippantly over his shoulder and brushing past me. He flees from me as if I am fire and he fears being burned.

I did not ask for this burden. Nor did he. But I have brought it to his doorstep and I must complete this task. Perhaps, in time, we might _share_ this burden. I call after him; though I recognised his anxiety I did not expect such a reaction. With no response, I retrieve the hilt from the end of the cliff where it rests, being investigated by several rotund feathery creatures. With resolution in my steps, I chase after the man who must become my Jedi Master if ever I am to fulfill my obligations. My destiny...

He doesn’t want this. I didn’t want this. I know little of the Force but it guides me ever onwards to him. I must do this. I must convince him. This is the island, the sea, the figure of which I have dreamt my whole life. I will sleep outside his door til he recognises this.


	3. Quarry

Sometimes I think this hovel in which I dwell will become my tomb. Sometimes I think I will end my days bricked up inside its stone walls, mouldering away to ash and dust. Sometimes it is a prison of my own making but right now…. Right now I am grateful for the thick stone and salvaged piece of X-Wing that serves as a door, for they keep me separate from a destiny brought to my doorstep by a woman who was until recently only a shadowy figure in my tumultuous dreams. 

My door is ripped from its hinges and an enourmous shape blots out the faint light of the sun. My heart drops as the Wookie gives an angry bellow and surges towards me. 

The woman is behind him. The determination on her face extends to her body. Her shoulders are set in a posture of defiance and the look in her eyes tells me this battle-maiden means business and will not be taking no for an answer. 

I find out my one remaining old friend is gone. Had I stayed connected to the force, I would have felt that thread being severed. I would have known Han had been murdered by the Padawan I failed to train. Another life I failed to protect. _I don’t want this._ I just want to fade away and die here. I served my time. I did my best. I failed _miserably_ at that and I deserve this self imposed exile as punishment for my crimes.

As I look beyond Chewie to the slim figure silhouetted by the muzzy grey light of the sun, I know she is like the sea: unstoppable. She will get what she wants at the end of the day.


	4. Hunter

Master Skywalker, for that is who he should be to me, is always running from me. Even after he discovers the death of his friend, the death of a _legend_. I almost hate to chase him. He is like the small, terrified skittermice that inhabited Jakku. I am the vworkka bird circling him and bringing him ever closer to his penultimate destiny. One which he’d rather avoid. 

He shuts us out again, Chewie looks to me for guidance but in that moment I hope for some outside influence to guide me. None comes. My hopes have never really come true… As the door slams and I stand outside the little hut, I swear I can hear a broken, shuddering sigh from within. But Jedi don’t cry, do they? Jedi Masters are stoic, taciturn, and unemotional. Aren’t they? 

Even as I think this, I realise everything I have experience of those trained in the ways of the Jedi counteracts this edict handed down to us by stories. Kylo Ren was trained as a Jedi and a more unstable human being I have never meant. Master Skywalker seems held together with seagrass and a prayer. I’ve rarely encountered someone with so much self loathing it exudes from his very being. 

I will keep up this chase. I sleep outside his door. I will continue pestering and demanding until he gives me what I need, what the _Rebellion_ needs.


	5. Master

Kriff.

She won in the end. 

Of course she did. How do you resist the Force and destiny? Not to mention a pair of brown eyes whose gaze penetrates me like blaster bolts. I try to explain to her why I don’t want another Padawan. I try to show her why my kind needs to die out; why _I_ should be the last of the Jedi. But she doesn’t see it, _won’t_ see it. 

Her hand is small and warm as I close my own over it, pressing her fingers to the stone outcropping where, for thousands of years, Jedi have come to meditate, to learn, to die. For a minute I don’t want to let go. I don’t want to pull my hand away from her skin, so full of life and warmth and vigor. But in the end I do. My internal debate raged so fiercely and so quickly she hardly notices it.

I have to teach her to see without her eyes. Have to teach her how to reach out and touch the Force without her hands. When she does…. It’s catastrophic. And in that moment I’ve failed. Again. Her power is terrifying and wonderful and hopeful and devastating. She is Ben all over again and I can’t- _won’t_ be party to a repetition of my past sins. Not again. Not with _her_. Not with Rey. I can’t be responsible for her destruction.

Again, I run. Or if not run, I at least retreat.


	6. Padawan

He fled from me again.

I am beginning to think I must repulse him for reasons other than my mission here. Even if he dislikes or fears the reason for which I am here, it hardly seems fair that he speak but a few words to me before almost literally running from my presence. 

I find him later. He’s alone. I don’t know why that occurs to me; we’re just about alone one this far-flung island. He’s seated in the grass on a hill overlooking the darkly crashing waves, hundreds of feet below us. With caution I approach, seating myself as carefully as I can beside him, gazing out in the direction his eyes are fixed. Everything is silent for ages except for the far off shush-shushing of the waves.

“Why did you come here, Rey from nowhere?” 

His voice startles me and I jolt.

“I told you. I came because of the Resistance.”

He’s quiet for another eternity. 

“I’ve seen you. In dreams.” 

It’s my turn to be quiet for a while. 

“I bet you say that to all the girls who show up unannounced on your doorstep, demanding training in the ways of the Jedi and insisting you help a rebellion you know nothing about.”

Luke looks blankly at me for a baffled moment before bursting out laughing. All the tension that has deepened the lines of his face has relaxed as he smiles at me, wiping away tears of mirth. 

“Are you hungry?” he asks. 

I am, so I nod. He hoists himself stiffly to his feet, offering me a hand and helping me up. Some barrier has been breached. I feel…. hopeful.


	7. Food

We sit across from each other at the small table in my hut. She marvels over the spetan channelfish and wild rice I’d made for food. I suspect she’s never even seen a fish before, much less eaten one. She inspects the flakey, white piscine meat like it’s some kind of fascinating artifact, placing it on her tongue and savouring the taste. Her eyes slide closed and she makes a noise I can only assume is one of pleasure.

“Good?” I ask, glancing up at her as I take a bite.

“On Jakku,” she says around another mouthful. “There’s ration packets and the occasional skittermouse. Pole-snake if you can kill them before they bite you.” 

Her table manners are delightfully poor but I’m not about to say anything. The rice is already gone. She’s hardly finished with swallowing the first mouthful before she’s putting another chunk of fish into her mouth. She reminds me so much of myself as a younger person it is scary. I remember ration packets. I remember the blandness of the diet of desert peoples who’s main concern was survival, not actual nourishment, much less flavour. Most of my meals with Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen were flavoured with sand more than anything else. 

She swallows another mouthful and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, half glancing covetously at the half finished portion on my plate. I push the plate forward and tip its contents onto hers. Rey gives me a sheepish smile and almost inhales my leftover dinner with careless abandon.


	8. Comfort

He’s got to think I’m disgusting. Or a glutton. Or uncouth. Or something. I catch him smiling in amusement at me as I devour the meal he puts before me. I can’t really help it. Ever since Finn and I escaped Jakku, I’ve been exposed to a literal universe of food I would never have even dreamt of. How can you dream of things like fish and meats and fruits and spices when I grew up on the green-hued bread and occasional vermin caught for protein? As I swallow the last of my own meal, my eyes linger for a millisecond on Master Luke’s plate. He’s eaten less than half of his own food. I thought I was quick enough, but he lets out a soft chuckle and suddenly he’s pushing his leftovers onto my plate. I feel a little guilty, but the look on his face tells me this is no hardship for him.

“I swear I must have gained twenty pounds after Han and Chewie took me and Ben off Tattooine.” he says, leaning back in his chair.

I remember just in time not to smile around my mouthful of food. I swallow again, my plate all but licked clean as I wipe my mouth with back of my hand. 

“Thank you for the meal.” I say softly, feeling slightly abashed. “I-”

He gives me a wink.

“Glad you enjoyed it.”

For some reason the warmth of his expression makes my stomach, now full, do a flip. I feel my face grow hot as he picks up his plate and reaches for mine. I hold it out to him and our fingertips brush.


	9. Insomnia

I lie awake in the darkness of my hut, listening to the far off crashing of waves; forever eating away at the base of my island home. Wind whistles through the crags of the island’s hills and I am glad to be indoors on a night like this. I sometimes think about how I couldn’t possibly have chosen a planet upon which to dwell that was any more opposite to the place I grew up. Tattooine was almost nothing but desert. Ach-To is almost nothing but water. There are places like this, other tiny archipelagos scattered throughout the planet and I’m sure at least one sizeable continent, but overall…. It is nothing but ocean, blues going to black as the water gets deeper than any sentient being dare dive. 

There’s a tiny knock at my door and I stiffen. Then I hear Rey’s voice, a low and urgent whisper. 

“Master Skywalker?” 

I get up and light the fat-candle lamp I keep near my bedside, crossing the room with my blanket around my shoulders. Opening the door, I see Rey in much the same state of dress, the thin blanket around her shoulders doing little to protect her from the night’s bitter chill. 

“Are you alright?” I ask immediately, opening the door wider to allow her entry.

“Y-Yes.” she shivers. “I j-just… It was r-really c-cold in my hut and I d-d-didn’t want to walk all the way back to the Falcon in the d-dark. I c-couldn’t get a fire s-started or I wouldn’t have c-come.” 

Her whole body is trembling with cold and I automatically take off my blanket and wrap it around her shoulders.

“I w-was hoping I could s-stay here, just for t-tonight.” 

I remain carefully expressionless. Inside my emotions are warring for dominance. It’s not unheard of for people to sleep together for warmth. It doesn’t have to mean anything. After all, whether I consented to it or not, she is my Padawan. 

“Yeah, that’s fine, Rey. Stay here tonight, we’ll do something about your hut in the morning.” 

She follows me silently to my sleeping pad, crawling in after me. Rey doesn’t lay board straight, as if afraid to touch me or be touched in turn. She lays on her side, her back to me as I throw the heavier blanket over both our bodies.


	10. Lullaby

The cold was so biting I couldn’t sleep. It penetrated the thin blanket I’d brought from the Falcon and made my bones ache. After a few hours I couldn’t stand it any longer. I did what I’d promised myself I’d never do: I bothered my Master. 

He lets me in without protestation, wrapping me in a blanket still warm from his body. His startlingly blue eyes fix me with a look of concern before allowing me to follow him to the spot he slept. The fat-candle’s flickering light casts enough of a glow for me to get situated beside him, lying on my side with my back against his front on the narrow mattress. The backs of my thighs rested against the fronts of his as he seemed to make an effort not to touch more of me than was necessary. I didn’t move until I was certain he’d drifted back to sleep. Master Luke’s steady breathing warmed my neck as I shift onto my other side, facing him and gazing at what I could see of his face in the guttering candlelight. My eyes trace the lines of his face over and over, rendering them permanent in my memory. I curl into the warmth of his body, tucking the heavy blanket tighter around myself and my Master. 

Warm and safe from the elements, I nestle there amidst blankets and pillows and a childhood hero’s comforting presence. He was the Luke Skywalker of legend, I would make him see that. 

A slightly cooler and more mechanical feeling touch brushes my hip. Master Luke’s cybernetic limb, the real one having been taken from him by his own father. It skirts over my hip again, almost ghostlike, before settling finally against it, the metallic digits curling around my side. _Sleep._ It wasn’t a spoken word. It was sent to me through the Force like a whisper on the wind .


	11. Rest

I awaken and for the first time in an age I feel rested. I wake with my nose buried in a mass of curls that tickle my skin and smell of sea winds and sweat. My mechanical hand rests proprietorially on the hip of a woman who is nestled tightly against me. For a moment I wish it were my other hand. For a moment I imagine what it would be like to rest the pads of my fingertips against her skin. For a moment I imagine what it would be like to-

She shifts, her fingers twining in my hair as she mumbles something in her sleep. I can just see the window over her shoulder as she huddles against me. It surprises me to discover the sky outside is still pitch black and I do my best to convince my madly spinning mind to calm itself and go back to sleep. 

I close my eyes, concentrating on the steady in and out of her breathing and slowing my own to match hers. It’s so easy to drift away, wrapped up against the cold in this haven of warmth and serenity. She is destroying any chance I have at telling her no. She is ending all my reasons for hiding away here. If she asked me just one more time, I’d probably throw away all my carefully honed reasons for _why_ I can’t come back, why I can’t help the Resistance.

My eyes squeeze shut and hide my face from the accusing touch of the cold. She knows me, _it_ knows me. Kriff….. She’s going to get what she wants.


	12. Relax

Growing up on a planet like Jakku, you learn to hate heat. Heat drys out every last screed of moisture from your body, makes your lips crack and your skin blister and peel. There’s no escape from it, no respite even at night as I lay in nothing but my skivvies, trying to sleep. There’s no way Ach-To could be anymore opposite to the place I once called home. 

I used to avoid heat, but now I gravitate toward it, I cling to it-to him. He is the last bastion of warmth in this otherwise barren and frigid archipelago. I try to tell myself I nestle against his chest merely to keep myself warm, merely to keep out the cold, but even as I tell myself this, my heart thrills as I remember all the stories told about the great Luke Skywalker. Even though I recognise the man beside me is much changed from the golden haired boy who helped defeat the Empire. 

Curled up here with a legend from my childhood dreams, my adolescent fantasies, and my adult desires I must fight hard to remember _why_ it is I came here. _Why_ I sought out Luke Skywalker in this, our time of need. 

Kriff, but it feels good to lie here, though...


	13. Sustenance

She sleeps like the dead, this girl. I finally awaken and carefully extricate myself from the warmth of the blankets and another human body for the first time in… too many years to think of. Rey moans as I tuck the blanket in around her, padding to the rough-hewn wooden trestle table upon which I prepare most of my meals. I activate the heating coil I’ve used for years, setting some water on to boil and perching on a rickety wooden stool as I wait for the water to heat up. My gaze flickers to Rey’s sleeping form and I can’t help but hungrily trace the shape of her body with my questing eyes.

It’s difficult enough to live by the Jedi code on the best of days. Looking at her makes me regret everything I have missed out on in my time in this voluntary prison. She is exemplary of the youth I no longer have. Soon she will leave this place. Soon she will return to the Resistance, with or without me. Her fire reminds me of my own and I know that if she discovers her friends are in danger, she will be every bit as foolhardy and as heroic and brave as I was when I left in the middle of my training on Dagobah to go tearing off to save my friends. 

Can I let her do this alone? Is it not my responsibility to clean up this mess which I have created. What will she think when she discovers it is my fault that Ben turned Dark? This thought significantly darkens my mood and I turn away from the sight of a woman in my bed to check the boiling water. It’s heated sufficiently and I retrieve bowls and the container I keep the colourless, flavourless, but nourishing gruel mix in. 

Moments later I hear Rey stir, roused by the smell of the limited spices I add to the meal to make it palatable. She pads over, the blanket still wrapped around her against the chill that lingers inside my hut.


	14. Meal

I am awakened by the light smell of spices in the air. As I blink sleep from my eyes, I see Master Skywalker placing two bowls on the rickety table we ate a meal at last night. Rolling from the comforting warmth of the bed, I join him, wrapping the blanket tightly around myself. He gives me a nod of acknowledgement and I can almost sense the walls crashing down around him again. He waits for me to take a seat and I sink down onto the rough hewn chair, tucking the blanket in around myself. 

We eat in relative silence and I gobble up the mushy, surprisingly tasty, hot cereal in record time. He glances at me, amused, over the top of his bowl. I swallow the final mouthful, attempting to wipe my mouth with some vague attempt at decorum as I clear my throat.

“Will we be training today, Master Skywalker?” 

He makes a face, setting down his bowl.

“Did I say something wrong?” I ask anxiously.

He sighs.

“I suppose ‘Master’ is the appropriate terminology for this situation…” he murmurs. 

My heart seems to rest in my throat and I worry about having pressed the issue so soon again after he denied me the first time. I want him to train me, I _need_ him to train me. I need to learn. I can still sense how reticent he is to become involved with the Resistance and, while I hate that he is so reluctant, I still need to have my skills honed so that I may return and be of assistance. 

He looks at me, the age lines around his blue eyes deepening as he frowns slightly. I do not like to see him frown. I only like to see those lines around his eyes furrow when he is smiling.


	15. Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Writer's Block is strong with this one. >_<

_Master Skywalker_. I still cannot help but cringe when she calls me that. Even as I lead the way to the high rock outcropping upon which generations of Jedi have meditated, every step is a challenge to my carefully constructed facade of detachment. Every step toward the summit is another step away from keeping myself out of this newest battle. 

She takes a seat on the cool, well worn rock, crossing her legs and looking at me expectantly. I do my best. I guide her in meditation after an amusing and stumbling start. Her hand is small and warm underneath my weathered digits when I press her palms to the rock, trying to show her how to ground herself and tap into the power of the Force. When she startles me with the strength of her power, I run again. I ran away before. I should never have stopped running. I should have kept my X-Wing from rusting away and flown further and further into the uncharted parts of space until the distance itself became too great to return from. _Why_ did I ever stop running?


	16. Chase

He leaves me exhausted, disorientated, and scared. The kind of fear I see on his own face. He is a reflection of me. I am angry. I am _livid_. His behaviour makes me doubt everything, especially everything he’s said to me. There is a guilt that lies beneath his anger I cannot quite put my finger on. I start to get up to go after him, I’m always _chasing_ this man. Ever since I was a little girl I have been chasing Luke Skywalker. He’s already too far ahead of me for me to catch up and he disappears from view before I can think to tap into my new powers within the Force. 

I want to catch him, I want to hold him still and _make_ him tell me the truth of his guilt. I want to make him tell me why he has become so frightened of the world, so reticent to rejoin his family, so determined to die in silence here with nothing but the crashing of the ways to play as his funeral dirge. I want to pull him to me, to pull him down _with_ me. I want to twine my fingers in his hair and feel the warmth of his body against me again. 

I look out over the darkening hills and shorelines of this tiny island, ever being slowly devoured by the waves over years and decades and millenia. Perhaps I do not have as much time as the endlessly crashing waves, but perhaps I too can wear him down. 

His hand on mine. It was so brief. Too brief.


	17. Lead

After a few awkward days of silence and distance, we form a tenuous armistice. She stands with me overlooking the harbour in which several torch-lit boats can be seen. I tell her it is a raid by neighboring islanders and she reacts much as I expect her to, recklessly darting off to save the day as she perceives the inhabitants of our island to be in danger.

This is why I do not wish to rejoin the fight; I am too old, too cautious, too….calcified in both body and thinking to be of any use to the Resistance. Rey is everything the Resistance needs. 

She’s rightfully angry when she discovers my trickery, bursting onto the scene to discover an atmosphere of joy and celebration rather than the massacre she no doubt expected. She scolds me and rather than trying to reason with her, I take her in my arms and pull her to the dance floor. 

In the company of the Lanai, she and I are both able to relax our carefully constructed walls for long enough enjoy one dance. I guide her small body around the dance area, weaving in and out of the the Keepers, their short, stumpy bodies almost fading away in Rey’s presence as I find myself completely absorbed in her presence. Her face is relaxed and she laughs with as much wild abandon as I’ve seen from her. Exuberantly, she twirls in my arms, taking my hand and guiding me towards a secluded spot slightly away from the festivities. 

I lean against the low fence than spans the perimeter of the cliff overlooking the wild sea. She scolds me again for allowing her to think the Lanai were in imminent and terrible danger. I am quiet for a moment before I speak.

“That’s what the Resistance needs. Not some old, failed husk of a religion. Do you understand now?”

Anger flares in her and her previously relaxed and happy demeanor changes instantaneously. She is _furious_ with me. Frustrated. Her fists clench at her sides as she glares at me with such hatred and anger in her eyes I am tempted to step back.

“I _understand_ that across the galaxy our REAL friends are _really_ dying!” 

She lets out a soft sob, more out of frustration than grief.

“That old legend of Luke Skywalker that you hate _so much_?” she looked at me and the grief and disappointment in her eyes is almost enough to bring me to my knees there and then. “I believed in it.”

Her next words hit me like a blaster bolt to the gut.

“I was _wrong_.”

Rey turns on her heel and quickly leaves, her footsteps fading fast as she bolts. It is her turn to run from me. I sag against the fence, the all too familiar sensation of shame and fear making my body go hot and then ice cold. I hear a low warbling growl and I look up to see Chewie looking at me with an expression I can only describe as extreme disappointment.

“Yeah. Thanks buddy. That’s very helpful right now.” I dryly reply to his admonishment.

I bury my face in my hands, closing my eyes against my palms and wishing for a moment the earth would open up and swallow me whole. She was right. She’s right about everything. I can’t stand that I’ve disappointed yet another person in my life. Yet another person I care for. Maybe even….. No. 

I’ll have to go after her. I’ll tell her I’ll go with her. Anything to make this up to her. Chewie growls again.

“I’m going, I’m going!” I snap, straightening my shoulders and brushing past the Wookie.


	18. Follow

Stupid, arrogant, cowardly, INFURIATING _man_! These words are on a loop in my mind as I storm away, no real direction in mind. In that moment I hate every moment of my life I have spent idolising Luke bloody-Skywalker. Every moment listening to stories of his heroic adventures. Every moment hoping for his approval. Every moment curled….

I shake my head to clear the memory of curling up with him on those nights when it was too cold to sleep alone, taking the steps up to the meditation rock two at a time, passing the tree in which the Jedi texts are kept. A brief, mad thought crosses my mind and I dart inside, the small collection of books lit by a preternatural glow as I stow them in my rucksack. As I turn to leave, a figure startles me and I let out a tiny shriek. 

“Well, I can see what Farm Boy sees in _you_.” a sarcastic tone issues from a glowing blue figure of a woman.

“Who are you!?” I exclaim in alarm, shrinking back against the wall as my hand searches out the hilt of my saber.

I take in the woman’s appearance. She seems to be in her late thirties or early forties with the trim physique of a person accustomed to a good deal of psychiality. Her red hair and green eyes are shockingly striking even with the blue glow and transparency of form she possesses.

“You’re a great deal younger than I would have thought.” the woman says, cocking her head and peering at her appraisingly. “Small too.” 

Taking offense, I draw myself up to my full height. Unconsciously sticking out my chin in defiance of this rude interloping woman’s commentary. 

“But stars…. are you _strong_.” she finishes, the glint of white teeth showing through her full red lips as she smiles. “My name is Mara.” 

I’m not familiar with this name and it must show on my face.

“Walk with me, kiddo.” she says, her insubstantial form turning and floating out onto the grass. 

Cautiously, I follow her out and find her standing amidst the grass. The soft breeze does not play through her hair, how could it? I have now determined she must be a Force ghost. Not have ever seen one, I am only guessing. 

“No matter where in the galaxy we ended up, Luke always loved looking up at the stars.” Mara says, glancing back at me.

“Did you know him well?” I ask carefully.

She laughs, settling down into the grass and leaning back again to gaze at the stars. 

“I like to think so. We were married for a time, after all.” 

This knowledge shocks me and I feel my eyebrows raise. 

“Are you more shocked that someone married me or that someone married him?” she asks.

“Uhm….”

“Jealous, perhaps?”

I am extremely glad it’s dark and thus my blush cannot be seen well. 

“No, of course not-”

“You enjoyed snuggling up with him these last few nights, though?” 

Her tone is teasing but gentle. There is no malice nor jealousy in her voice. 

“He was younger than you when he had the weight of a galaxy thrust upon his shoulders, you know.” 

“I know…” 

“And you must know it’s because he believes he no longer has the strength or the ability to assist that is preventing him from helping in the Resistance.”

I stiffen. It’s easier to believe he is being stubborn, that he is being cowardly or selfish, than it is to believe the man I have idolised my whole life has no confidence in himself. Mara turns to me.

“He is afraid of failing you the way he failed with Kylo. Do you understand that?” she asks in a voice soft as silk. 

The very idea dumbfounds me. Though I’ve accused him of cowardice in my own mind time and time again, it’s somewhat jarring to hear the idea verbalised. Luke Skywalker afraid? Not possible. Not _really_.


	19. Mistake

I look all over for her. I check the hut she’s been staying in (and that I partially destroyed). I search the hills and the outcropping where we had our disastrous “lesson”. I even check my hut. My bed is cold and empty and the hut remains dark, the embers of the small fire long since burnt out. 

Eventually, I find myself standing before the hulking but familiar shape of the Falcon. My eyes skirt it’s beat up hull plating, remembering and re-memorising every forgotten angle and battle damaged edge. The Falcon is dark but the gangplank is down. I can see the moonlight glint off the worn, silver metal, remembering how mine and Han’s boots sounded on the ventilated walkway oh-so-many years ago. The Falcon isn’t mine anymore. It’s not for me. It’s for her. Her and her far away friends. A new generation. A different approach but the same fervor and determination I had when I was her age. 

I will not step foot aboard the Falcon again without her say so. Grunting, I seat myself atop a rock facing the ramp. Drawing my cloak about me, I rest my hands a-top my walking stick, gazing into the shadows of the familiar but changed freighter that proved to be so integral to my youth. 

The porgs cry out to each other around me, their calls echoing throughout the hills. Despite their stubby bodies and cuddly nature, it is an oddly mournful sound.


	20. Understanding

I find him seated on a rock outside the Falcon, hands folded over the top of his animal headed walking stick and his head resting atop them. His eyes are closed and his hair is wet with dew and the light rain that began as I began my descent from my odd meeting with a ghost.

For a moment he looks every bit the old man he is; slumped shoulders and grey hair. For a moment I can fully appreciate the toll his perceived failure has wrought upon him. His failings with Kylo aged him prematurely, for I fully believe in a different world Luke Skywalker would be powerful and vibrant well into his elderly years. 

I reach out, my fingers brushing his cheek with the faintest of touches. His eyes flutter open at the touch but I do not retract my hand. He looks up at me and I can see galaxies in his eyes. I’m reminded what Mara said about how he liked to look up at the stars on different planets and I wonder if he ever noticed that while he was looking at stars, Mara was undoubtedly travelling the boundless interstellar reaches within his eyes. 

“I’m sorry.” he said immediately in a voice thick with sleep.

He moves to stand and I help him up. He seems eager to make amends in that moment and thusly misses every signal I am giving that it is completely unnecessary. My mind is occupied with other thoughts. He stands before me, only slightly taller than me. I can feel his frantic energy, almost desperate to fill the air with apologies and promises to make it up to me.

“If you want me to go, I’ll go with you. I don’t know what use I’ll be to you, but if you think it’ll help-”

I cut him off with a kiss that muffles his pleas for salvation. He lets out a soft noise of surprise and I cannot help but smile. 

“Rey?” he asks tentatively as I pull away, my hands resting gently against his chest. 

Master Skywalker-Luke searches my face for any tell that might give away… what? Possession? Mind control? 

“I spoke with someone last night.” I start quietly. “Someone who knew you….”

His brow furrows in confusion.

“Mara?” I say softly.

Realisation washes over his face like a wave upon the sand. It is immediately followed by an expression of worry and grief; the two emotions vying for command of his features. I want to soothe away those negative feelings. I kiss him again and then take him by the hand, pulling him with me into the Falcon, into the shadows, and into my quarters.


	21. Ebb

My stomach tightens as she touches me. It’s been _years_ since another human touched me and even more since I’ve been touched like _this_. Her fingers are tentative, nervous but curious as she brushes them over my chest, tracing over my collarbone and ghosting over my shoulders. 

She finds the courage to let more than just her fingertips brush skin, resting her palms against my chest as she leans in closer. Hesitatingly, she arches herself up and initiates a kiss. She is pulling me down, drowning me in the nearness of her and I am _all_ too happy to acquiesce. My face is flushed and the cool air is like knives against it. I shiver as her fingers bury themselves in my hair, nails gently scratching at my scalp as she holds me tight against her. 

Her hands are not fearful as they encounter a body that is not sleek and fit, hairless and toned as she would no doubt be accustomed to and indeed, entitled to. My own hand, the one not made of metal and gears and wires, trembles as it touches her bare thigh, the fine hairs thereupon tickling my fingertips as I marvel over the dark-eyed beauty gazing up at me. She is so much more than just beautiful. 

Rey pulls me close and I almost lose myself completely as her legs tighten around my waist, drawing me deep _deeper_. The sound of her voice in my ear, against my skin, is the music that has been missing from my life. It’s as grounding and connecting as the Force I have deliberately avoided for so long. My head bows against her chest in worship as she urges me on to a fever pitch. She clings to me as we both peak one and then the other, crashing together like the waves chasing each other upon the rocks below.

I smell the sweat on her skin, feel her lips against my throat and cheek. More than that, I feel strong, but only for that moment. I hold her in my arms, her face only partially visible in the shadowed bunk she pulled me into.


	22. Flow

He holds me for a long time and then I hear his breathing change and he is asleep.

I watch him sleep.

In sleep he looks so much younger. The worry-lines fade and the permanent frown-line that runs between his eyebrows lessen. In the minimal moonlight of this planet’s two moons, he appears almost peaceful. I sit up, careful not to disturb him as I pull one of my bunk’s blankets around my bare shoulders. I glance down at my body, nude and still slightly thrumming with the newness and excitement of it all. I am too restless to sleep and I gently ease myself from the cavernous clutches of my bunk. 

I slide my warm body back into clothes made chilly with disuse and pad back out into the cool air and far-off sound of crashing waves. The ebb and flow of the waves is relaxing and I again wonder upon how a girl from Jakku ended up here. 

More than that, I wonder if any of this changes things for Mas- for Luke. _Luke_. **My** Luke. I wonder if he thinks I have done this, _seduced_ him, all to convince him to return with me to the Resistance. I regret none of my actions. I do not regret berating him. I do not regret demanding training. I do not regret the act we shared not so long ago. Nor will I feel guilty if it _does_ convince him he has not yet passed his prime; that he still has much to offer the galaxy. That he still has much to offer _me_.


	23. Attainment

I awaken alone. I’m not sure what confused me more, waking up without Rey beside me or not waking up in my own bed. Once the disorientation faded and I recognised where I was, I heaved myself upright, looking around for any sign of my missing lover.

Her staff rested against the wall but her clothes and boots were gone. For a moment I wondered if she’d run off in shame. Pulling on my own worn garments, I trailed through the lovingly worn-out interior of the Falcon, peering around for Rey.

I find her outside, wrapped in a blanket and gazing up at the stars. Hesitantly, I walk up behind her and pull her back into my arms. She didn’t flinch or resist, melting against me as I encircle her in the bulk of my sweater. We remain there silently for a few minutes before the urge to speak strikes me.

“I’ll go. Wherever you need me.” I murmur. “Whatever you think I can do to help…. I will do it.”

She turns in my embrace, gazing up at me with a smile across her full lips. 

“You will?”

I nod. 

Her expression is joyous. More than that it is more hopeful than I have ever seen it. Rey’s eyes are fixed on me, their dark irises reflecting the multitude of stars above. My breath catches in my throat and I knew I’d never be able to deny her anything she asks of me again.

I see galaxies in her eyes.


End file.
